


I Wake to You

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clarke is the big spoon, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Not a drop of angst in sight, Sleepy Cuddles, literally no plot, so much damn fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Clarke becomes the big spoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wake to You

**Author's Note:**

> That's literally it. Zero plot whatsoever. And possibly the shortest thing I’ve ever written for these two. If you watch Teen Wolf, you might recognize the scene it was inspired by (from s4). hope you enjoy!

There are many things Bellamy loves about sharing a bed with Clarke. 

He loves how her hair fans out in every direction like a halo, the way her lips remain half-parted even when she’s deeply asleep, how her limbs inevitably tangle with his in the night until he can't tell where he ends and she begins. He loves her drowsy murmur of protest when he has to leave early for a morning patrol, and that her hands curl into his shirt for an extra moment because he’s not allowed to go without at least one kiss - more like several.

He loves the fact that they come home to each other at the end of every day.

But for some reason, right now all he can think about are the pins and needles charging up his arm where it’s sandwiched under long blonde locks. Clarke had slid into the tent far too late that night (overworked, again), partly disrobed, and promptly fallen asleep atop him.

Which, normally, he wouldn’t mind. Except that his mind is wide awake and all he registers is the numbness slowly spreading throughout his limb. Also, her neck will be killing her tomorrow if she stays like this. And the last thing he needs at the clan meeting is for his princess to be grumpy. He and Indra are more than happy to provide enough sourness on their own.

So Bellamy shifts again, wriggling his legs and attempting to extract his arm out from under her without actually waking her up. It doesn’t work very well. Clarke makes a small mewl of protest before shifting closer. He stifles a groan and pulls his arm again. 

No good.

After two particularly hard yanks, Clarke stirs. “I’m going to kill you,” she mutters drowsily. Even half-asleep and with her eyes closed, he believes her. But it isn’t enough to make him stop moving.

“Sorry, I just- this doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s _sleep_ , just close your damn eyes and shut up.”

His laugh turns into a hasty cough as blue eyes slit open for the briefest of moments. Clarke is a downright grouch when it comes to disturbing her sleep.

It’s one of the many new things he’s only recently learned about his princess since they started sharing a tent. And a life.

Whining isn’t his proudest look, but damn his arm really hurts. “My arm’s asleep,” he complains. 

“So am I,” she replies, irritated, but moves her head anyways. In her haste, she scoots down the bed and curls into a ball practically at waist-level. 

Bellamy frowns. That’s not right. He grips her shoulders and pulls her back up so she’s at least on the pillow. Instead of thanks, he gets a grumble and another flash of blue irritation. “Bellamy Blake, I’m going to kill you and then bring you back to feed to Indra if you make me go to this meeting half-asleep.”

She curls on her side, turning her back to him and dragging most of the blankets with her. 

_Well, fine._

Bellamy sniffs and rolls the opposite way, definitely _not_ pouting. His eyes remain open as he studies the faded yellow fabric of the tent. He can still feel Clarke next to him, soft and warm and so, so close. 

This is even worse.

With a frustrated sigh, he flips to his other side and presses against her, trying to fit his large body into the groove of her smaller one. He tosses an arm around her waist and snuggles close. She hums a little, settling into his hold. _This might work,_ he thinks, and begins to relax. Now her hair’s everywhere, draped over his cheeks, his chin, his nose. The long strands tickle. He takes a deep, satisfied breath… 

… and sneezes.

“Bellamy!” She shrieks.

He’s too busy sneezing to reply. “Ahh-choo!”

Clarke shoves him away, grumbling about some plant or another that’s guaranteed to knock him out stone cold. She’s using the scientific name, like she does when she’s really pissed off and has lost all patience. Somehow it doesn’t sound like she’s talking about putting him to sleep temporarily. 

He exhales heavily, rolling to his back and preparing for her to turn away again. Instead, her hands clamp on his shoulders and she gives a push. Not for the first time, he finds she’s surprisingly strong for someone so small.

“Ow! Clarke, what-”

“Just turn,” she orders firmly.

Her hands urge him onto his side, his back to her. The retort gets stuck in his throat when her arm slides around his torso, her grip astonishingly tight. Her legs curve easily against his as she burrows against his back. He can feel her nose where it presses in between his shoulder blades. Her fingers splay directly over his heart, gently stroking over the material of his shirt. A small, happy sigh escapes his mouth.

“Good?” She asks softly.

Bellamy smiles in the darkness, his hand covering hers. “Yeah. That’s good. Really good.”

“Okay.” She somehow wedges herself even closer, her bare leg sliding along his and prompting something like a purr from his throat that makes her laugh. He’s sure his ears are red, but it’s hard to care at the moment. “Now don’t wake me til dawn,” Clarke warns sleepily, “or I really will lock you up with Indra.”

It’s his turn to laugh as he brushes a kiss over her knuckles. “Whatever you say, princess.”

They’re both asleep in minutes. No dreams, no nightmares, no thoughts at all, really. Just blissful, deep sleep. It doesn’t escape his attention that even Clarke looks particularly well-rested the next morning. 

The only problem? Bellamy isn’t sure he’ll ever leave their bed again if he wakes up to her wrapped around him like that every day. He whispers as much into her ear, grinning like a fool when she only replies, “I don't see how that's a problem,” and proceeds to kiss the daylights out of him.

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from lyrics to "Sky" by Joshua Radin (feat. Ingrid Michaelson)


End file.
